


Let's Play a Game

by redonpointe



Series: From Russia, With Love [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Sexual Tension, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonpointe/pseuds/redonpointe
Summary: Sherlock first spotted her out of the corner of his eye. She was impossible to miss, with her red lips and her red hair, and pale green eyes too bright and cunning to belong to anybody else.





	Let's Play a Game

Sherlock first spotted her out of the corner of his eye. She was impossible to miss, with her red lips and her red hair, and pale green eyes too bright and cunning to belong to anybody else.

This thing between them was still new, but she knew better than to interrupt him halfway through a deduction, and so she stayed in his periphery. Hands tucked in the pockets of her trench coat, long sculpted legs crossed at the ankles, accenting her hourglass shape. Sherlock had every curve and angle tucked into his mind palace, pairs of numbers scattered along her waist, her hips, her thighs, her knees, along every perfect feature of Natasha Romanoff’s distinctive transport.

She was home early, supposed to be gone for a week, at least. He set the question momentarily aside to finish his explanation with the usual rush of words, spoken in Lestrade's general direction as he snapped the gloves off his hands. 

"...and if you check the window frame, you'll find the missing bullet lodged in the wood," he said, and caught Natasha’s half smile out of the corner of his eye. He tucked the gloves in his coat pocket, flashed Lestrade a too-broad smile, not nearly honest enough. “Text me if you need me.”

If there was a moment’s pause, a beat of silence, Sherlock didn’t notice. His mind had already moved on to another mystery, an enigma wrapped in a black Burberry trench. The middle of summer was fast approaching, already warm enough to go without the additional layer. There was only one reason she’d don the coat now. 

Natasha pushed off the wall to join him as he walked by and offered his arm, the two of them disappearing out the front door of the dilapidated building, and down the front steps, all in a dramatic swirl of black fabric. 

Sherlock put one of his gloved hands up to hail a cab. “You’re home early,” he said.

“Turns out that little skirmish in Kandahar didn’t need my attention all that much,” she replied, hand tucked int the crook of his elbow. He peeked down, and she winked up at him, flashing a subtle smile. “Mycroft mentioned you’d be working, so thought I’d drop by,” she added. “Plans for the evening?”

“None beyond a bag of toes currently waiting for me in the fridge.” Sherlock ushered her into the cab when it came to a stop in front of them, rattling off directions to the cabbie before he turned the full force of his gaze on her again. 

She met his eyes and crossed her legs, exposing the barest hint of pale thigh. “Any chance I could convince you to postpone that experiment?”

Sherlock’s mind frothed over with deductions, like a glass of champagne spilling over the rim. The lack of clothing underneath her coat, the inevitable silk and lace and bare skin he’d find in its place, warm and occasionally scarred and entirely _his_ to touch.

He met her gaze again for the briefest second, but then he was moving closer and leaning in, brushing his nose up the curve of her neck, sliding long fingers underneath her coat and along her thigh, drawing the faintest gasp from her lips. She tipped her head with his name on her lips, clutching the material of his coat in her hands to draw him closer.

“I suppose I could be convinced,” he whispered in her ear. “Given proper incentive.”

She pulled him in tighter, turning her head to catch his lips in a lingering kiss. She smiled as she broke away. “Good thing I’ve got a few ideas.”


End file.
